


Relaxation Technique

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean haven't been together in a week and Sam thinks it's about time he fixes that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relaxation Technique

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sammichgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/gifts).



> Written for Sammichgirl's Birthday. Happy Birthday darlin.

Sam’s bouncing his leg restlessly as John gives Dean the list of supplies that they’ll need for the hunt tomorrow. He’s been waiting to be alone with Dean for a week. Now that he has a chance to get Dean to himself for a few hours, he can barely wait.

Dean takes the keys to the Impala off the nightstand. “Come-on, Sammy,” he’s halfway to the door when John stops him.

“Whoa…whoa, slow down there, Dean.” He holds out the keys to the rusty pick-up truck that he usually leaves them with when he takes off for parts unknown.

Dean scowls. “But…the Impala’s here,” he whines, and clutches the car keys tightly.

“Dean,” John says sternly, holding out his hand, silently-demanding the keys.

“Fine…” Dean caves in, hands John the Impala’s keys, and takes the truck keys. “Come-on, Sammy.” He’s out the door and in the truck before Sam can catch up.

Sam climbs in the passenger seat and slams the door. “It’s not so bad, it’s just a truck.” He knows that look, Dean’s look of total fury from not getting his way, so he tries to defuse the situation. 

“It’s not the truck, its dad.” Dean’s peeling out of the parking space, tires squealing as he turns the corner sharply. “He doesn’t trust me with his precious car.” He’s clenching his jaw. 

Sam slides across the bench seat until his hip is touching Dean’s. “Don’t be so tense.” His hand tenderly moves up Dean’s thigh. “Do you want me to help you relax?” Sam’s fingers dig in a little when he squeezes Dean’s thigh as he emphasizes the statement.

“Jesus, Sam. Doesn’t that fifteen year old cock of yours ever take a break?” He flashes Sam a smirk.

“It’s been on hiatus for the last week, or haven’t you noticed?” He shifts his palm from Dean’s thigh to cup his crotch. “I guess you have noticed.” Sam’s tone is dark and lustful.

The truck swerves a little before Dean regains control. “Concentration, Sam, concentration.” 

“I am.” Sam grins from ear to ear as he presses his hand against Dean’s building erection. 

Dean’s hips push upward into Sam’s touch. “Fuck, you little tease.” Dean’s pulling off to the side of the road. “Can’t wait, can you?” He puts the truck into park and without a second to spare, he pounces on Sam, pushing him backwards across the seat. “You want something from me?” The words are husky and lascivious. 

Sam’s arms quickly warp around Dean’s shoulders to pull him close. “Only you.” He pulls himself up and kisses Dean. 

Their mouths press passionately, kissing feverishly like they’re lost lovers who found each other again. It’s sloppy and hungry and neither is ready to stop when they finally separate.

They look into each other’s eyes, the wet gaze is deep as they find that sexual tension and start grinding into each other, hips swiveling as their groins crush together with each pass. Sam arches his back, his mouth falling open on a loud exhale. “Oh God,” he exclaims softly. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking a wet mess inside of his underpants.

Dean’s heavy on him and Sam likes it. He’s rubbing rough circles in the soft bristles at the nape of his brother’s neck. He feels rough hands tangling through his hair and pulling lightly as Dean pushes harder into him with each pump of his hips. “It’s been so long,” the words are strained. He’s pushing back, his body begging for more, needing more than rough friction through heavy denim.

“I’ve missed you.” Dean’s whispering into Sam’s ear. “Needed this so much.” He nips at the soft lobe before swiping his tongue over the smooth shell of his little brother’s ear, eliciting a soft moan from him. 

He sits up and quickly undoes Sam’s jeans, pushes his hand down inside of them and starts to stroke his cock. “Mmm, wet.” He likes the slippery glaze of precome coating Sam’s cock. 

“Because of you.” Sam moans out. His body is quaking with desire as he bucks and gyrates into Dean’s loose grip. He clutches the back of the seat with one hand and grabs Dean’s wrist with the other helping to guide him through the strokes. His breath is uneven and he’s not sure if he can hold on much longer.

He quickly moves his hand from Dean’s wrist to his crotch, pushing his hand down inside of his jeans, the waistband catching at his wrist keeping him from going all the way down. Dean pops the button open with his free hand and inches up Sam’s thighs to give him better access. Sam’s hand dips down inside and encircles Dean’s pulsing prick. 

He’s tugging with rugged strokes. Dean’s thrusting against them making his job so much easier. “So big,” Sam coos, as he swirls the pad of his thumb over the leaking head of Dean’s dick. He flicks the slit before dropping back down over the shaft to repeatedly pull long strokes over it. The breath hitches in Dean’s chest at the feeling of Sam’s nimble fingers pleasuring him. 

“Christ.” Dean hisses, as he picks up speed with his strokes, manipulating Sam’s cock.

They’re pumping in sync. Each diving down and pulling up at the same time, both on edge, both locked in on their respective pending orgasms.

They can’t speak, just gaze intently into each other’s lust blown eyes. Dean’s hand planted on Sam’s chest for support as Sam is cradling his neck, pulling on him, trying to force him down. 

They’re rocking into each other when Sam suddenly gasps, squeezes Dean’s neck tight, a fluttering heat swirls in his belly and comes thick and wet over Dean’s palm. 

Dean’s enjoying the wet warmth, the soft musky scent of his brother’s orgasm as he smears it over his brother’s cock. Sam picks up the pace and Dean’s fully aware of every digit rubbing his shaft. He thrusts into the grip and when Sam’s hand hits the underside of his head one last time, he shoots hard, spilling out from under his waistband, painting his belly with pearly white jizz. 

Sam strokes him through his orgasm. Holds him up while he finishes and lets him fall satiated on top of him. Dean’s hand is trapped between them, still stuffed inside of Sam’s pants.

“A fucking week.” Dean grunts, as he readjusts himself to free his hand.

“A fucking week.” Sam reiterates, breathlessly. “Still upset about the truck?” He’s smoothing over Dean’s back with light strokes.

“What truck?” Dean chuckles and then kisses Sam softly.

The End.


End file.
